Coffee
by icor
Summary: Because when you lose your diazepam, there's always coffee. [Wolf and FOXHOUND centric crackfic. Oneshot]


"Wolf, put a damn shirt on," Ocelot sneered over the edge of his coffee cup.

Really, Psycho Mantis didn't know why the gunslinger still insisted on complaining about Wolf's clothing, or lack thereof; it was the same every day, the sniper wandering around with that top of hers wide open, no visible bra and a little too much flesh on show. If he so much as had a sex drive, even Mantis himself probably would have been distracted. Still, their bickering amused him in a twisted, will-they-shut-the-Hell-up kind of way, and his one regret of working under Liquid was being prohibited from picking them up by their necks and slamming them into the wall.

"Shut up, Russian," Wolf spat back, slamming her fists against the table. Someone was in a good mood this morning, then. "My tablets. Where are they?"

It was probably the first time Mantis and Ocelot, or any of the other onlookers had seen Sniper Wolf look genuinely unnerved. Sure, that woman could sit with a rifle, not moving a muscle or eating for a _week_, but that doesn't mean she had the patience of a saint.

Staring into the remaining sugary dregs of his coffee, and swirling it around and around in the mug, Ocelot smiled. "You mean your drugs, don't you?"

More irritated now by his delayed responses and little _technicalities_, Wolf once again slammed her fist down onto the table—or rather punched it, accompanied by a delightful ringing as Decoy's breakfast bowl found itself in midair, milk and sloppy cereal decorating his hand. Not to mention half of the table. Oh, and the floor too.

"Drugs, yes. Tranquilizers. Diazepam. Whatever you will call them; just tell me now, where are they?"

It was _always_ a good morning when the world's deadliest sniper was angry with you. Ocelot smiled. Mantis stopped reading their minds for a moment to actually _listen_ to what they were saying. Vulcan offered Decoy a towel.

"What makes you think _I _know?" He was amused, albeit genuinely confused at the allegations of knowing where her drugs were—and by the thought of having actually _stole _them, for that matter.

Wolf gritted her teeth, and it was a small mercy that she didn't do any more damage to the table. "_Liar_!"

"Perhaps if you had the courtesy to put a shirt on when you get up I might tell you. You know, we all have our share of... faults, Wolf, but your _immodesty_ can't be put down to withdrawal symptoms alone." Wolf was too frustrated by now to take in the subtle mockery of his words.

"The Raven wears no shirt, and I do not hear you complain of him," she stated, jerking a finger at the man. He nodded in agreement, proudly putting a hand to his well-built chest. "But, if you will tell me where my tablets are, I will agree to wearing a shirt; not that I understand why it would bother a _man_ like yourself. Unless..."

Purposely trailing off, Wolf sat down at the table with a grin.

_Maturity is clearly one of her greatest virtues, _Mantis mused, delving into her mind once more. It amazed him, really, how she could be sure that Ocelot was probably having her on, but still play along with him anyway. Whether it was for fun or out of desperation, he wasn't quite sure. However, the game was becoming boring to him now, and he had no intention to watch anymore.

"The withdrawal symptoms of diazepam include: anxiety, dysphoria, irritability, insomnia, REM rebound, confusion, tremors, muscle spasms, anorexia, vomiting, hypothermia and hypotension; and in severe cases—this is where _she_ comes in—seizures and _death_. And though your minds are screaming 'we would all wish that on Wolf at one point or another,' I do not think Liquid Snake would be too... pleased."

Luckily for Mantis, Wolf had mesmerised more or less all of the nasty little symptoms at some point or another in her life. There was a collective silence which satisfied Mantis, and he decided to keep the image of husky puppies batting a half-empty diazepam container between their paws from the rest of FOXHOUND. Well, he might divulge this bit of information if one of the pups managed to break the child-proof seal. Maybe.

If Wolf and Ocelot decided to shut the Hell up.

"I don't see why you need those drugs anyway," Decoy commented off-hand, shrugging his shoulders slightly. He didn't understand what the big deal was. They were only _pills_; now maybe if it was something as important as blood he could sympathise with her. But really, pills? He would _never_ understand women.

Mantis sighed, and the noise became distorted, turning to an angry hiss through his gas mask.

"My hands are shaking," Wolf stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. To demonstrate her point further she extended a hand across the table for Decoy to see. All she got in return was a blank stare, and a grunt from Raven.

"I do not see it," Raven muttered, rubbing the raven on his head in confusion.

"_My hands are shaking!"_

Ocelot winced. It always had to be up to him, didn't it? Sometimes he even felt like a babysitter; albeit it a babysitter for a group of deadly—and more importantly, _insane—_trained killers. Reaching across the counter he pulled over a still-warm cup of coffee—the one Mantis had been eying up for the past few minutes—and placed it down in front of a hopeless Wolf.

"Here—try sometime less damaging." No matter how much he disliked Wolf, he was yet to meet a single soldier who did not deserve a mug of fresh-roast in the morning. "Though I'm sure the caffeine won't do much for your nerves," he added as an after-though.

A glimpse into Revolver's mind confirmed that it was not, in fact, poisoned. Wolf scowled at her broken reflection in the coffee cup, and after a moment's consideration lifted the warm mug between her fingers. Her hands were shaking so much there were _almost_ ripples on the steamy surface; closing her eyes she took a mouthful of the strong, bitter substance, swallowing both the coffee and her pride.

Her face twisted into a expression which could only be described as being both terrified and intrigued by the taste at the same time, and she let out a string of Kurdish swear words under her breath. Ocelot chuckled to himself, and even Raven had a smile across his face; yet her reaction was nothing compared with the way she spat hot coffee all over the table, wide-eyed once Mantis casually commented—

"So, puppies _can_ chew through diazepam containers. Who knew?"


End file.
